Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: Jan 20, 2005, Beth’s age: 7

It started innocently.

“Beth, I’m not sure you should ride your bike until I can tighten those training wheels, unless of course you want me to take them off?”

“Alright dad, take them off.”

Fifteen minutes later we were together on the sidewalk; father, daughter, and bicycle. The father was standing behind it all, grasping the seat. The daughter was astride the bike, imploring the father not to let go. The bicycle was just sitting there, oblivious to it all.

After running along side for about thirty feet, Beth tells me to stop.

“Dad, I’d like to try it on my own now.”

I was ready to indulge her, and she rewarded my faith. She struggled unassisted, feet on the pedals, for about ten feet. That’s where she stopped, feet on the ground, bike still upright. Her very first solo attempt was a success!

Naturally I hoped, hollered, and generally carried on like an English soccer fan. (Beth thought my chanting strut down the sidewalk was a bit much.) Then I ran inside to grab the camera to record the second unassisted ride. It was the best thing to happen to our house since Adam first slept through the night.

Next thing I know Beth is asking to ride to her school with a group of friends (it’s a mile and a half away, but it’s practically inside our neighborhood and you don’t have to cross any busy streets). She came home thirty minutes later and collapsed. Apparently there are some things about bicycling that can’t be learned.

Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: Oct 26, 2004, Beth’s age: 7

In the south…

I have it on good authority that if John Kerry is elected president, kids will have to go to school on Saturdays and Sundays, and they will only have brussel sprouts and cabbage for lunch in the cafeteria.

George Bush, on the other hand, has the courage to take on the liberal school boards. He has the backbone to take on the vegan lobby. He has the strength of character to stay the course on the traditional school week. He is the only candidate that wants to take the choice away from lunch ladies, and put it into the hands of the hard working school children of America.

Well, that’s what Beth’s friends say anyway.

Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: Aug 3, 2004, Beth’s age: 7

Beth is a tough nut to crack, but she’s even harder to read. The lead into the new school year had all the emotion of a new pair of socks. (What do I have against socks? Why am I picking on socks in general? As a child, I was permanently scarred by the cruel and unusual gift of socks on Christmas morning.) It was so unlike my experience. I remember the first day of elementary school with all the fondness of replacing a Mac with a Dell. Yet, I remember the first days of a new term at UF with eager anticipation. These were two very different experiences, but they had one thing in common: emotion, a commitment to one side of the wellbeing spectrum or the other. Surely Beth feels something about the big first day?

“So Beth, how do you feel about the first day of second grade?”
“I dunno.”

“Are you nervous?”
“I guess so.”

“Are you excited about meeting your new teacher?”
“Not really.”

“Have you now, or have you ever, committed to one emotion in particular concerning your scholastic career?”
“Huh?”

I haven’t decided if that last question was too sugar coated with sarcasm for my own good.